


Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by Danagirl623



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Character Death, Christmas, Drugs, Engagement, Halloween, M/M, Sex, True Love, heart ache, not the GREAT Sherlock Holmes yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2020-08-20 20:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danagirl623/pseuds/Danagirl623
Summary: Sherlock Holmes wasn't always in love with John Watson. There was a man before him. His name is Victor Trevor and this is their story.This sprung up from a conversation with my darling Johnlock friend Mick.Updates will be sporadic. This is one of my *Favorite* ideas I've ever had, so I'm going to take my time and relish the writing process.Comments and Kudos are love.





	1. Meet the Parents

The decaying manor was still imposing in its squallor. Ivy clung to to more surfaces than not. It wasn’t the Holmes Manor of his childhood. That had been a magical place, but now? The shine has worn off.

A gentle touch to Sherlock Holmes’ arm brought him back to the present. A low whisper of, “Billy boy, are you okay?”

“Just remembering my childhood, Vic. My grandmother’s house is atrocious. If my grandfather was alive, he’d never have let his happen.”

“You look amazing,” Victor said, with a quick peck on his boyfriend’s cheek. 

“They’re going to tease me because I’ve finally brought a boy home. They’re going to ask me, ‘when are you getting married?’ I hate it!” Sherlock stated as he wrinkled his nose. Victor leaned his forehead against Sherlock’s, rubbing his nose against Sherlock’s affectionately. 

“You may hate it, but at least your parents are still alive.” 

“That, sir, is a low blow,” Sherlock said, chastely kissing Victor’s smirk.

“I’ve got to use what I can to my advantage; what with being an orphan and all.” Victor reached over and smoothed out the suit his boyfriend was wearing. Sherlock chewed his lip anxiously. “Billy boy, stop this. Your parents adore you. I make you happy-”

“Yes you do,” Sherlock smiled widely. 

“They will adore me because you do. They’ll see how you love me, and they will bless the day I came into your life.” 

Sherlock pulled his boyfriend into arms, and held him close. Victor snaked his hand up into the messy curls at the back of his boyfriend’s head and pulled him into a bit of a kiss. 

Suddenly the door to the to the manor opened up. In the doorframe stood Sherlock’s older brother with a scowl on his face. “William Sherlock Scott. You are a Holmes. How can you make-out on the front porch like some common hoodlum?” Sherlock’s brother asked, scathingly. 

Sherlock groaned, as he broke the kiss with his boyfriend. Victor reached over and took his boyfriend’s hand. “Mycroft, this is my boyfriend, Victor Trevor. Vic, this is my stupid brother, Mycie.” 

“Mr. Holmes, nice to finally meet you! Sherlock speaks so highly of you.” Victor held his free hand out to shake Mycroft’s hand. 

Mycroft glanced down at it, and haughtily announced, “I know all about you, Mr. Trevor. Scholarship student, low-achiever, and orphan. I fail to see what is so special about you.” 

“Mycie, piss off,” Sherlock said, sourly. “You’re just jealous because someone loves me and not you.” Sherlock said, tightening his grip on Victor’s hand. 

“Peace, Billy Boy,” Victor stated with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “It only matters what Sherlock sees in me.” 

“Mycie!” a woman’s voice shouted, as she rushed in from the kitchen. “You’re letting a draft in!”

“Daddy!” Sherlock shouted with a grin. “Mycie won’t let us in!” 

“Tattletail!” Mycroft hissed, giving Sherlock a “you’re an idiot” look.

“Billy’s home!” the woman shouted again. “Daddy! Billy’s here!” she rushed into the doorway and pulled her son into her arms. “Oh, I’ve miss you, Billy.”

“Hello, Mummy!”

“You’re so thin! Don’t you eat?” She chided, pinching her son’s cheeks.

“Yes, Mummy, of course I do. Vic-”

“And you!” Mrs. Holmes started, pushing her son into the foyer before she pulled Victor into her arms. “You must be Billy’s young man. He speaks so little of you.” 

Victor laughed, as he hugged her. “You know him. Always full of secrets,” Victor said, fondly. “It’s fabulous to meet the famous Mrs. Holmes. Sherlock has said nothing but good things about you.”

“Vic!” Sherlock blushed, pulling his boyfriend out of his Mummy’s arms. Victor reached over and took Sherlock’s hand. 

“Daddy!” Mrs. Holmes called over her shoulder. “Come meet Billy’s young man, Victor!”

“Vic, please. ‘Victor’ was my grandfather,” Victor grinned, jokingly. “Before you say it, ‘Mr. Trevor’ was my father.” 

“Vic, come in and meet my Dad,” Sherlock grinned, tugging his boyfriend into the house. Sherlock pulled him over to where Mr. Holmes sat, watching the television. Mr. Holmes turned it off, and stood up. He pulled his son into his arms and held him close. 

“Good evening, my boy.”

“Dad!” Sherlock greeted, then pulled away from his father. “This is my boyfriend, Vic Trevor.”

Mr. Holmes appraised the young man for a few minutes, before he stated, “Billy is a special lad. Do you know this, Victor?” Mr. Holmes held his hand out for a firm handshake. Victor grasped the older man’s hand and shook it with authority. 

“Oh, Mr. Holmes. Yes I do know how special Sherlock is. His heart is amazing. He’s so kind to so many people. During his freshman year, he helped every single bloke on that floor with one subject or another. Day or night, someone was knocking on his door for his assistance.”

“That sounds like Billy,” Mr. Holmes laughed, as he adjusted his tie. 

“When he moved off campus, it was really a sad day. I mean, it worked out for me as we moved in together. The lads on E2 however were not happy about moving day.”

“Most people would have complimented his brain.” Mycroft pointed out lazily.

“Oh, his brain is brilliant. There’s no doubt but I love for his heart.” A twinkle shone in Victor’s eye when he grinned broadly at Sherlock who blushed a bit. 

“Billy’s always been such a soft hearted boy,” Mrs. Holmes agreed. 

“No, Mummy! Don’t tell him about Redbeard!” Should said with a groan. “I had a pirate phase- you see-”

Mycroft spoke up, cutting off whatever Sherlock was going to say, “If he had his way, he’d have joined the Navy-” 

“Daddy!” Sherlock protested, with a bit of a whine, to the peacekeeper of the house. Victor squeezed Sherlock’s hand twice in silent communication reminding his boyfriend he loved him. 

“Boys! Come in to the dining room. Let’s go sit and eat,” Mr. Holmes said ignoring his youngest son’s whining. 

The entire party went into the dining room together. 

“Mycie-” Mrs. Holmes started.

“Mummy!” Mycroft whined. “It’s Mycroft. Can’t you please try to make it all the way through it?”

“Mycie,” she repeated, staring at her son. “You sit by me. Billy, you sit by Daddy. Vic, won’t you please sit by Billy?”

Victor nodded as Sherlock pulled his chair out for him. Victor slid into it, and Sherlock pushed it in. Before he sat himself, Sherlock kissed the top of Victor’s ear, then whispered, “Watch, Daddy’ll do the same for Mummy.” Sherlock sat in his own chair, and moved it closer to the table. They both watched Mr. Holmes do his nightly ritual with his wife. 

“Thank you for sharing with me.” Victor whispered, placing a peck on Sherlock’s cheek. 

“Mummy!” Mycroft spoke first. “I learned a new Latin word today.”

“No you didn’t! You were too busy nosing around my college today,” Sherlock complained. 

“I was simply having lunch with an old friend. Honestly, Sherlock, you’re too paranoid for your own good.”

“Billy, stop tattling,” Mr. Holmes scolded, then added, “Mycie, no one likes a braggart.” Mr. Holmes started passing platters around the table. “It’s a shame that Benji couldn’t make it today. The whole family back together.”

“Oh, Ben sends his love!” Victor said, beaming, remembering. 

“You’ve met Benji, but not Billy’s mummy?” Mrs. Holmes asked, pointedly at Sherlock who swallowed before he smiled brightly.

“He stopped by to upgrade my laptop.”

“I’ve been after him for months, Mrs. Holmes,” Victor added pointedly. “I wanted to meet you sooner than I am.” 

Mrs. Holmes made a disappointed noise, before everyone lapsed into silence. 

After a few minutes of silent eating, Mrs. Holmes turned to Victor. “I heard you just graduated. Congratulations.”

“Oh! Thank you, Mrs. Holmes!” Victor responded, as he wiped his mouth. “So kind of you to mention it.”

“What’s the plan now?” Mr. Holmes asked after he took a sip of water. 

Sherlock grinned widely, and placed his hand on Victor’s thigh. “Vic’s got a job at The British Museum.” 

“Doing what?” Mrs. Holmes asked, politely. 

“I’m a tour guide in the Arts department.” Victor brushed his hair back off his forehead. “It’s fantastic to be using my degree.” 

“Art history?” Mycroft sneered. “Good lord, I didn’t think that scholarship students got to choose such a ridiculous major.”

“What do you know about scholarship programs?” Sherlock asked, with a bit of a snarl. 

“I minored in chemistry and art history. My major was finance.” Victor said, proudly. 

“Maybe you could get Billy to settle on a field,” Mrs. Holmes said, as she pushed her plate away from herself. “Excellent dinner, again, Daddy. Thank you for cooking.” 

Mr. Holmes smiled proudly, and winked his eye at his wife. 

“Well, his mind is too fast for normal subjects. He is so smart and clever, picking one major isn’t fair to the rest of his brain.” Victor stated, resting his hand on his boyfriend’s hand. Victor ran his thumb over Sherlock’s hand in a soothing method. 

“Do you coddle Billy too?” Mr. Holmes asked, leaning forward on his elbows. 

“No, sir, I kick his arse good and proper when necessary.” 

Mrs. Holmes smirked. Mr. Holmes chuckled and nodded. “Good lad.”

“Pardon me, Mrs. Holmes. I have the mouth of a sailor.” Victory said, with a sheepish grin.

“I have nothing but boys in my life. Do you really think a little cursing is going to throw me off?” She asked. 

“Mummy. Daddy. My name is ‘Sherlock’. Please stop calling me ‘Billy.’ Thank you so much,” Sherlock said, in the middle of the conversation, ignoring everything else that was being said.

“Why shouldn’t we call you ‘Billy’? It’s infantile and stupid like you are,” Mycroft stated. 

“Mycroft!” Mr. Holmes chided. “Stop telling your brother he’s stupid. Need I remind you-”

“No, Daddy! You don’t need to remind me how brilliant my dorky little brother is,” Mycroft pouted.

“Mycroft, are you jealous of Sherlock’s intellect?” Victor asked, before either of the parents could respond. “Maybe instead of sending barbs your brother’s way, you could perhaps spend some time studying on the subjects your brother enjoys to make a connection with him. He is, afterall, the only family you’ll have once your sainted parents are gone.”

“Well said, Vic!” Mr. Holmes beamed at the young man.

Mrs. Holmes grinned at Victor. “I like your young man, Bil-Sherlock. You made a great choice.”

“Thank you, Mummy,” Sherlock smiled, before he wiped his mouth.

“Are you practicing safe sex?” Mr. Holmes asked, with a polite look. Mycroft choked on his drink, and covered it up by coughing. 

Victor’s ears were a bit pink, but he answered. “No, sir. We’re not. Sherlock is my only partner… Ever.”

“Daddy!” Sherlock exclaimed, then looked to his mother. “Mummy! Don’t let Daddy ask these questions.” 

“Sherlock, darling. We’re concerned about you. We know Vic can’t get pregnant, but STI’s are a thing.” Mrs. Holmes remind him, then turned sternly to Mycroft. “And you, mister. Are you having safe sex?”

“He’s not having sex, Mummy!” Sherlock called out, smugly. 

Victor threaded his fingers through Sherlock’s. “Billy!” Victor whispered, “It’s not nice to show off your deductions abilities.” 

“And why not?” Sherlock pouted. 

“It’s not polite,” Victor insisted. “And yes, I know he’s your brother. You don’t have to be polite, but you should be.”

“Why should I be? He’s never nice to me!” Sherlock insisted, his pout deepening. 

“One day, you’ll want his company and he’ll refuse you because of how you’re behaving.” Victor said, logically. Sherlock turned his face away, and refused to answer him. Victor smiled politely at the table before he stood up and pulled his boyfriend into the living room. “Come now, Billy boy. No more pouting.”

Sherlock buried his face in Victor’s neck and breathed deeply. “He’s so dreadful. ‘I’m Mycie. I’m the British Government. I am smarter than you, better than you, and prettier too.’ He’s hateful, Vic.”

“Billy,” Victor said sternly. “He is your brother…. I’m sorry, but you must treat him better. If you can’t do it for you, do it for me. I miss my little brother all the time, and I don’t want you to live without your big brother.”

“That’s not even fair, Vic.. It’s hateful.”

“There are days when I wake up and I’m convinced I’m going to get a call from him. Once I’m fully wake, I know it’s impossible, but I.” Victor sighed, and nuzzled his boyfriend. “I just don’t want you to feel estranged from your family, because they’re our only family left.” 

“Did you just say ‘our’?” Sherlock asked, pressing a small kiss to Victor’s neck. 

“Well, it is us against the world, isn’t it, Billy boy?” Victor asked, with a smile. “Now let me see those beautiful eyes of yours, please.” 

Sherlock lifted his head up, and made eye contact with his boyfriend. Dark brown eyes held on to light blue ones as a silent conversation passed between the men. “Why are you like this?” 

“Because you’re a great man, and I’m sick of the world trying to tell you differently.” Victor ran his hands down his boyfriend’s too thin frame. 

“We should get back there,” Sherlock started, then shook his head. “Because I’m awful tempted to take you away from this place and have my way with you.”

“And rob your mother of the chance to ask me what my intentions are with you? I would never do that!” 

Sherlock pouted at his boyfriend. “You know, a kiss or five wouldn’t hurt.” 

Victor laughed, as he placed pecks all over Sherlock’s face. “You. Are. Such. A. Brat. Well. My. Brat.”

“Almost enough.” Sherlock whispered, his desire making his voice as smooth as honey.

Victor stood up on his tippy toes, and kissed Sherlock’s nose tip. “Behave yourself, sir.”

Sherlock grumbled, before he kissed Victor on the forehead. They both made their way back to the dinner table. This time, it was Victor who pulled Sherlock’s chair out for him. 

“Mycie,” Sherlock said, as he picked up his fork and pushed some potatoes around. “Would you stay after dinner and play chess with me?”

Mycroft glanced guiltily at his mother, who was smiling widely, and nodded his head. “Thank you, Sherlock. That would be a fun way to spend my evening.” 

Underneath the table, Victor gave Sherlock’s thigh a squeeze, before he turned to Sherlock’s parents. “So, Mrs. Holmes, Mr. Holmes. Do you have any embarrassing photos of Sherlock?”

“Oh, we have so many pictures of the boys when they were little. I was-” Mrs. Holmes cleared her throat. “Always working-”

“Mummy was the first female British Intelligence agent in MI-6!” Mycroft said, proudly. He pushed his plate away from himself. “Honestly, Mummy, you worked really hard for that and you should tell others about it.”

“He’s on a new diet,” Sherlock whispered in Victor’s ear. “I’ve been dying to say so.” 

“I wasn’t even supposed to tell you lot.”

“Then don’t you know it, our eldest son works for MI-6 too,” Mr. Holmes said, placing his napkin on the plate. 

“So, Daddy stayed home with the boys. I came and went all hours of the day.”

“Our Billy’s just like you…” Mr. Holmes bragged. “Brain bigger than all of London and the same amount of energy to boot.”

Mycroft laughed, “Sherlock has probably walked every single street of London.”

“London, Billy?” Mr. Holmes asked, worried.

Victor glanced at his boyfriend, then Mr. Holmes. “Did you forget to tell your family that we moved closer to The British Museum?” 

“I mentioned it in a text,” Sherlock said, sharply, panic in his voice. “Daddy asked me if I was coming home for Easter, and I said, ‘No Daddy. We’re moving closer to the Brit.’” Sherlock reached over and took Victor’s hand. “ Do you remember, Daddy?” 

“Did you really text Daddy or did you run through the scenario in your head and forget to text Daddy?” Mrs. Holmes asked, in a kind voice. Sherlock shook his head to indicate a negative response. 

“Daddy, please check your phone. I know I texted you,” Sherlock stated. 

“I will check my phone after dinner,” Mr. Holmes promised. “I’m sure you did mention it. I’m sorry, son mine.” Mr. Holmes stood up, and picked up some of the plates on the table. “Why don’t you grab a few dirty dishes? You can help me bring the pie in”

Sherlock nodded, and grabbed a pile of dirty dishes. Mr. Holmes and Sherlock disappeared into the kitchen.

“He’s very sensitive about being accused of something he didn’t do,” Mrs. Holmes explained, a bit embarrassed. 

“I hate when he gets like that,” Mycroft admitted, softly. “I hate it Mummy. I tried to teach him not to get so upset, but he can’t help it. I’ve seen him struggle with it.”

“You’re a great big brother,” Mrs. Holmes praised her son. 

“Sherlock does adore you,” Victor added, with a tight smile. “When he talks about his family, he speaks of you first and most often.” 

“Thank you for telling me that, Victor.”

“Please, remember that, Mycroft. I can’t imagine growing up with Billy was easy, but he is the best man that I ever met.”

“He’s a difficult person.” 

“No, he isn’t. He’s wonderfully clever and kind. He idolizes you, Mycroft,” Victor stated. He placed his elbow on the table, and leaned on it making a face that read ‘but what do I know?’

“He’s not Autistic. Daddy and I had him tested.”

Victor shook his head, then smiled, “Mrs. Holmes, your boy is completely neurotypical. He’s inquisitive, kind, clever-”

“Why are you telling us about how my brother is? We raised him.”

“And you did an aborrhant job, Mycroft. You took this boy who loved science, and literature, and maths, and tried to push him to be a robot-”

“Everyone ready for pie?” Mr. Holmes asked, as he and Sherlock returned with dessert. Sherlock pulled Mr. Holmes’ chair out for him, and set to passing out dessert. “Mycie, can you get the cognac?” 

“And wine, darling,” Mrs. Holmes added. “I don’t think I want liquor.” 

“Yes, Mummy.” Mycroft disappeared to the liquor cabinet. “Daddy, Vic here is really smitten with our Billy.”

Victor swallowed the water he was sipping, and turned to Mr. Holmes with a grin. “I adore your son, Mr. Holmes.”

“How did you two meet?”

“I was sitting at a table, composing, and he walks up to me with tea. He said, “Hey mate, you should try to sleep.” I looked at him, knew everything about him, so I said-” Sherlock had started.

“He said, “I don’t need sleep, but judging by your appearance, you do.” What a bastard,” Victor finished with a smile.

“It’s not Shakespeare,” Mr. Holmes laughed before he placed his hand fondly on his youngest son. Mycroft happened to walk back into the room, and scowled at his family laughing at something Victor said. 

“Alcohol, anyone?” Mycroft asked, filling glasses.

“I had been in the chemistry lab working on an experiment, but I was kicked out. As I was walking back to my room a thought came upon me. So I sat down as soon as I could, and I composed it. It’s a beautiful violin piece, and it’s been adapted into over 100 instruments.” Sherlock said, pulling his piece of pie over to himself.

“What’s it called?” Mycroft asked, with a blink of his eyes.

“Chemistry.”

“That’s the piece you performed at our annual Christmas Eve party,” Mrs. Holmes smiled proudly. “I told you Anita would love it.”

“Since when did you compose for money?” Mycroft asked, surprised. He sat down at the table again, and looked at him. 

“I didn’t do it for money. I wrote it for myself, and someone approached me to buy the rights.” Sherlock shrugged, and took a bite of his pie. “It seemed stupid to not to do it.”

Victor smiled widely at his boyfriend. “Plus, it’s a fantastic answer to ‘so how did you meet your partner?’”

“Oh, partner?” Mycroft asked, politely. “What business do you two own together?”

Sherlock looked at his brother, and stated, “Don’t be stupid, Mycie. Partner in this sense means life-partner similar to spouse” 

“Mycroft, enough. Your brother has explained to you, and I don’t want to hear anymore about it from you.” 

“Daddy!” Mycroft gasped, turning to his father. “I can’t believe you’re sticking up for-”

“The man Billy loves? That man is always welcome in my home,” Mr. Holmes said firmly. “As would any man you dated.”

“Daddy!” Mycroft blushed red. 

“I know who my sons are and what their preferences are.” Mr. Holmes pushed his plate away from himself. 

“Daddy, no! Please don’t leave the table,” Mycroft said, still wearing the sourest face possible

“I don’t know why you can’t ever just be happy for Billy. You always were the jealous type,” Mr. Holmes said, standing up and pushing his chair in. He picked up his plate and kissed the top of Mrs. Holmes’ head. “I’m going to my library. Billy if you and Vic want to stay here, your bedroom will be ready for you. Nice to meet you, Vic.”

“Nice to meet you, also, Mr. Holmes,” Vic murmured, pushing his pie crumbs around on the plate. 

“Mummy, do you know where Grandfather’s chess set is?” Sherlock asked, covering half his pie with a napkin.

“Your set is in Daddy’s library. I think chess is a good idea, boys. Stay quiet around your father,” Mrs. Holmes said, before she picked up her wine glass “Stoke Daddy’s fire and mind yourselves.” She waved her wine glass. “Holmes boys, you are excused. Vic, I’d like you to stay behind with me.” 

Victor glanced at Sherlock with a ‘I’m in trouble face.’ Sherlock smiled, kissing his hand. 

“Yes, Mummy,” they chorused together. Mycroft and Sherlock disappeared out of the room, each carrying a stack of dirty dishes.

“Vic, alone at last,” Mrs. Holmes smiled at him, before she sipped her wine glass. “What do you say we retire to the living room and have ourselves a pleasant chat?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Victor stood up, and grabbed the two bottles before he went over to pull out Mrs. Holmes chair out from the table. She laughed at him and took her own bottle. Victor pushed the chair in, and followed her to another room. 

This room was filled with books, comfortable arm chairs, and a large writing desk. “Pick whatever chair you want. I have a few questions to ask you.”

Victor waited to sit in an armchair until Mrs. Holmes had picked hers. Victor sat down across from her, so he could look her in the eye when talking. 

Victor placed his bottle on the little table next to his armchair. He sat down,leaned back, and crossed his legs to get comfortable. “Ask anything you want, Mrs-”

“Enough with the “Mrs. Holmes” bullshit. Billy is my favorite. If you truly love him like he says you do, then you should call me “Mummy.”” Mrs. Holmes said, placing her bottle of wine down. 

“Yes,” Victor took a moment before he added, “Mummy.” the word felt weird in his mouth. It wasn’t a word he could remember ever using before. 

“Are you an orphan?”

“Yes, ma’am I am. My brother and parents died when I was nine.”

“Do you miss them?”

“My brother’s death is an ache in my heart that will never go away,” Victor said softly, running his thumb along the lip of the glass. 

Mrs. Holmes smiled at Victor, “You miss your brother, but not your parents. How telling.”

“My parents were too wrapped up in each other. My dad had just invented something “that was going to change the world, James! The whole world!” I didn’t care about that. I wanted to-” Victor shook his head, before he took a sip of his liquor. He put a smile on his face, and made eye contact with Mrs. Holmes. “But that’s then, what I think you’re curious about is the now and the future.”

“I have the usual questions for you.”

“Ah, yes… My intentions for your favorite child.”

“ You don’t miss much,” Mrs Holmes said, refilling her glass. 

“Ah, no. Billy taught me his deductions game. I’ve not as good as he-”

“I taught him it and he outstripes me.” Together, they laughed. “He’s too clever for his own good.”

“Sometimes, but other times he just sees too much,” Victor laughed, sipping his cup. Victor stared at the melting ice in his cup, swirling it in his glass idly. “I know you don’t care about the sonnets I read and think of him. No you’re far too much a scientist for that.” He paused allowing himself a moment to think. “Your son, my Billy boy, is far too precious for the benign existence I can give him. He deserves everything he wants and more.” Victor took a sip of his drink. “What I can give him is stability; a safe environment to exist in. I can get him to eat and make sure he’s wearing clean clothes. I can get him to sleep, occasionally.” 

“He’s already chose you,” Mrs. Holmes said, clearing her voice softly. “He’s not with you for your money or your job, or any other reason Mycie believes. Billy’s with you, because my sweet caring emotional boy has found someone who treats his heart the way it should have been treated all along.”

Victor nodded his head, then glanced up at Mrs. Holmes. “So, ask it.”

Mrs. Holmes sipped her wine glass. “What are your intentions with my son?”

“To spend the rest of my life making him happy.” 

“Do you want kids?”

“Absolutely not. Sticky hands touching Billy? Can you imagine?” Victor asked, shaking his head. “I don’t want kids. I want dogs.”

"Billy always had dirty hands as a child. Mycie hated it. He was forever dragging his brother to the sink to wash his hands.” Mrs. Holmes sipped her wine, before she fixed the younger man with an appraising look. “What about your career?”

“I’ve been employed by the British Museum and I signed a ten year contract to be there.” 

“Then what happens?”

“I want to retire from there, so I’ll propose that they extend my contract.” 

“If they don’t?”

“I own quite the profitable chain of bakeries in Ireland,” Victor said, crossing his legs, leaning back. 

“So what you’re saying is that regardless of what happens with that job, you’re set for money?”

“Oh, yes Mummy. I got half the settlement from my parents’ accidental death and used most of it to buy the successful chain.” 

“A businessman I see.” Mrs. Holmes said, taking a sip of her wine. “Do you know how much Billy’s worth?”

“Priceless,” Victor said, as he took a sip of his drink.

“Good answer. His trustfund alone is worth 1.6 million pounds.” 

“Impressive,” Victor agreed, putting his glass to the side. 

“What are you doing for Christmas?”

“I think Billy said something about Paris. I’ve never been-”

“Come here, instead, please. I miss my Billy-” Mrs. Holmes cut herself off, pressing her palms against her eyes. “He is far too much like me. Secretive and self-sufficient. He doesn’t need anyone. He’s got all the tools he needs, but he’s kind hearted like Daddy. He’s been taken advantage of so many times.”

Victor nodded, delicately glancing away. She wiped her eyes, and gently blew her nose. “He doesn’t know his limits. I’m very mindful of them.” 

“Will you please come home for christmas?” Mrs. Holmes asked, clearing the emotion from her voice. “I just miss my Billy.”

“Yes, Mummy, we will. Billy and I will be here.”

Mrs. Holmes exhaled loudly, before she stood up. “I’m going to bed. I’ll show you to the library where the boys are.” Victor scrambled to his feet, and grabbed his liquor bottle. Mrs. Holmes pulled him into her arms and held him for a minute. “You’re a good boy, Victor.”

“Thank you, Mummy.” 

Mrs. Holmes released her hold on Victor before she escorted him to the library where the boys were. Victor ducked into the room, and placed his liquor bottle on the counter. 

“Ah, Victor, come sit with me. Let those boys have their game,” Mr. Holmes invited his son’s boyfriend to join him.

Victor walked behind his boyfriend, and paused just a moment to kiss the top of Sherlock’s head. “Kick his ass, Billy.” 

Sherlock smirked, “On it.”

Victor walked over to the armchair by where Mr. Holmes sat. “So you passed Mummy’s assessment.” 

“I don’t know if I passed, but she released me.”

“Sometimes with her, that’s the most you can wish for.” Mr Holmes glanced towards his sons who were deep into their chess game. “Do you have a fag?” Mr. Holmes asked, suddenly. “Those boys have been smoking, and I am simply dying for one.”

Victor grinned, before he sauntered over to Sherlock and snatched up the box. He brought it over to Mr. Holmes and offered him one. Victor lit Mr. Holmes’ before he lit his own. 

“Open the window before Mummy comes down in a huff. She abhors smoking.”

Jim tucked the cigarette between his lips and went over to the window to prop it open. He flung it open, and came back to his seat. He sat down, and unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt. “Bit warm in here.”

“That’s because of those clever clogs over there. They are heating the place up.”

“Mr. Holmes-”

“Carlton,” Mr. Holmes interrupted. “Although, Daddy isn’t out of the question.” 

“Daddy,” Victor tried clearing his throat. “Do you have any baby photos of Billy?” 

“Yes, I do.” Mr. Holmes struggled out of his seat, tucked his cigarette between his lips, and went over to the bookshelves. Victor glanced towards his boyfriend, saw him smirking at his brother.

“Billy Holmes, you are so fucking handsome.” 

“You two are ruining my concentration. Will you be decent and shut up?” Mycroft asked, sharply.

“Just because you’re losing, doesn’t mean you take it out on your brother,” Mr. Holmes said, bringing a stack of albums over to where the two men sat. Victor grabbed the top one and started flipping through it. 

Quietly for nearly an hour, Victor and Mr. Holmes went through photo albums of the three Holmes boys from birth to twenty years old. Victor’s favorite photo was of all three boys in front of a decorated christmas tree. They were in homemade plaid pajamas, and each boy had an arm around his younger brother, except for Benjamin. He had his arm around a stuffed puppy. 

“Redbeard,” Mr. Holmes whispered, tapping the picture. “Billy always let Benny play with Redbeard on Christmas break.” 

“Daddy!” Sherlock whined, stepping closer to his boyfriend. “I asked you not to show him Redbeard.” 

“You asked Mummy, not me. Vic asked for photos,” Mr. Holmes said, with a smile.

“I’m telling Mummy you’re smoking.”

Mycroft scoffed, “You don’t think she knows that already? Just like everyone here knows you’re Vic’s bitch.” 

“Mycroft! Off with you!” Mr. Holmes said, sternly. “I’m not proud of you, right now. It’s disgusting how often you try to hurt your brother over nothing. Go away.” 

“Daddy!”

“Mycroft Holmes, you are the biggest arsehole in this family and the way you treat Billy is appalling. If your Nan was alive, what would she say to you? I’ll tell you what she’d say-”

“Daddy, as much as I enjoy watching Mycie be told off, I’d like to go to bed now,” Sherlock interrupted him before Mr. Holmes got going. “Which bedroom is ours?” 

“Your old one, of course, son.” Mr Holmes turned back to his eldest son. Sherlock helped Victor to his feet before disappearing from the library. Sherlock led the way to his old bedroom. 

Once the door was shut behind them, Sherlock pressed himself against his boyfriend. “Alone at last, Mr. Trevor.”

“Oh, my, Mr. Holmes. What big-” Victor started, before he dissolved into giggles, and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. “Where’s Redbeard now? Can we bring him home with us?” 

Sherlock laughed, before he kissed Victor’s forehead. “Are you tired?”

“I am so tired, but I feel a big distraction coming up,” Victor grinned, his hands roaming lower. 

Sherlock chuckled, kissing his way down Victor’s throat. “You little minx. Opening your collar in front of Daddy so I couldn’t focus.” 

“That wasn’t for you, creeper. It was because that room was stifling.” 

“Mmmhmmm, Mr. Trevor. I believe you.”

“Good, because I don’t,” Victor managed before Sherlock bites at the base of his throat. Victor gasped loudly, emitting a loud squeak. 

“Quietly, or Mummy will put an end to this,” Sherlock said a bit sharply.

Victor moaned softly, before he murmured, “Make me.” 

A twinkle of  _ something dangerous _ flashed in Sherlock’s eyes, before he picked Victor up and carried him to the bed.

Victor struggled, and wiggled until Sherlock flopped him on the bed. “You still haven’t made me be quiet.” 

Sherlock chuckled darkly, before he crawled on top of Victor. His legs straddled on either side of his boyfriend’s thighs. Sherlock kissed down Victor’s chest using his teeth to pop buttons open. Victor buried his hands in a mop of curls, and tugged. “Faster,” he encouraged, causing Sherlock to stop working all together. Victor grunted in frustration before he pulled his dark haired boyfriend’s lips up to kiss him.

Sherlock grinned into the kiss, giving his hips a bit of a thrust. Victor groaned, breaking the kiss. “Need you.”

Sherlock shook his head before he reached down to rub Victor’s hard on through his trousers. “Get naked.” Victor shook his head ‘no’, while he wiggled under Sherlock. Sherlock growled, displeased, sending a shiver through Victor’s body, but yet he didn’t act. Sherlock fumbled with the zip-fly before he he managed to pull it down. Sherlock snaked his hand into Victor’s trousers, and groaned as his palm hit flesh. “No pants?” 

“Can’t wear’em,” Victor panted, as Sherlock slowly stroked his boyfriend’s cock. 

“Ah, yes, I believe it ruins the lines of the suit,” Sherlock taunted, as he fumbled with his own trousers. He pulled his cock out, and pressed it against his boyfriend’s. “You’re such a little whore, aren’t you?” Victor nodded, and panted, as he focused on his boyfriend’s hands. Sherlock chuckled, and sped his hand movement up. 

“Please, Billy. I just-”

“Breathe, love,” Sherlock grinned at his boyfriend, focusing on the lovely little noises coming out of Victor’s mouth. Tiny huffs, groans, and moans utterances of Sherlock’s name. “You are so beautiful under me… Let’s see if we can make a big mess…” Sherlock groaned, and sped up his hands. “Come for me, Vic,” Sherlock said, more breathless then he wanted.

“Please, Billy, pleeeasse.” 

Sherlock grinned, and added a flick of his wrist on the upstroke caused Victor to spill into his hands. His own release followed. Sherlock rolled off his boyfriend and stripped down. He set to work removing his love’s clothes. The two grown men crawled into the bed and snuggled close.

“You’re so naughty,” Sherlock whispered, kissing Victor’s neck. 

“You’re disgusting. You didn’t even try to clean up after yourself,” Victor whined, cuddling close to his boyfriend.

“It’s just some protein-”

“STOP!” Victor giggled, hiding his face in his boyfriend’s neck. 

A knock on the bedroom door made both the men freeze. “Daddy said there are pjs on top of the dresser,” Mycroft called, with a disapproving sniff.

“Good night, brother mine,” Sherlock called, with a bit of a giggle that confirmed to Mycroft that he just missed his brother misbehaving. 

“Good night, fellows.” 

  
  


The next morning, Sherlock woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. He yawned, and stretched out his lithe body. The bed was empty, which was not surprising. Victor was an early riser, and was probably already downstairs. 

Sherlock crawled out of the bed, and grabbed a quick shower. He scowled when he remembered he didn’t have any hair products. He quickly shrugged on his pjs, and hurried downstairs.

“Oh, Vic! You should have seen that naughty little Cherub. He was covered in paint from head to toe. He ran right over to me and hugged my leg,” Mummy was laughing.

“Mummy!” Sherlock groaned, sliding into the empty seat at the kitchen table.

“Hush now, Billy boy,” Victor instructed, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand lovingly. 

“What are you two discussing?”

“You, of course, my handsome lad,” Victor smiled at his boyfriend, before taking a sip of his coffee. “Mummy, this coffee is amazing! Thank you!” 

“Mummy, I’d like to bring Redbeard home with us. Do you know where he is?” Sherlock asked, reaching for the bowl of eggs.

“Oh! I think I remember which box Mama put him in,” Mrs. Holmes said, thinking. 

“Redbeard,” Victor nudged Sherlock with a smile. “I thought we weren’t allowed to discuss him.”

“I’m bringing him home with us, Vic. I feel like he belongs with us.”

Victor smiled down at his plate of half eaten breakfast. “Whatever you think best dear.” 

“Mummy,” Mycroft said, clearing his throat. “Didn’t Benjamin take Redbeard to college with him?” 

“Mycie, stop it,” Mr. Holmes said sternly. “I had thought that our conversation last night had landed, but obviously you intend to be a giant arsehole the entire time. From now on, you only speak when spoken too.”

“Daddy! I’m a grown man!”

“However your actions tell us otherwise, so until you prove to us how adult you truly are, I don’t want to hear from you.” 

“Don’t even ask for a second opinion from me, Mycie,” Mrs. Holmes said, placing her napkin down.

Mycroft nodded, and continued to eat his breakfast in silence. 

Victor struggled to wipe the smile off his face. He glanced at his boyfriend who wore a similar expression. “Thank you, Mummy. This feels like it used to with my siblings.” 

“Why are you thanking me?” Mrs. Holmes asked, suppressing a smile. “You should be thanking Daddy. He made the PJs you’re wearing, the breakfast you’re eating, and caused the grin you’re wearing.” 

“Thank you, Daddy.” 

“Victor, as far as I’m concerned, you are one of us,” Mr. Holmes said, with a smile, placing his mug down. “And those pajamas look terrible on you. I need to measure you. After breakfast, ok?”

Victor nodded, digging back into his breakfast. “This is just amazing.” 

“Billy, you should bring him around more often. I like him.”

“I intend too, Daddy,” Sherlock smiled at his father. “I'm really glad you like him, because I intend to keep him.” 

“William Sherlock Scott,” Mrs. Holmes said, disapprovingly. “If you really think our opinion influences yours, I’ll eat my hat.”

“Oh, please, Mummy. He was so nervous about yesterday-”

“That’s because my family is embarrassing!” Sherlock said, then glanced at Mycroft with a pointed look.

“I wish I had my parents to embarrass me.”

“Get stuffed, Vic,” Sherlock said, grumpily as he turned back to his breakfast.

“You ready for your measurements, Vic? Then you and Billy can get back to London,” Mr. Holmes asked, with a smile.

“Yes, of course,” Victor stood up from the table, and followed Mr. Holmes into his sewing room. Mr. Holmes took all sorts of measurements, then smiled at his son’s boyfriend.

“I haven’t picked the fabric for this year’s pajamas yet, but I gotta check with Benji. Do you know if he’s dating anyone?”

Victor chuckled, “Are you kidding? He works more than Myc does.”

“So how is it that you met the brothers before us?”

“Just Ben and by complete accident. He came over to do something computer related.” Victor shrugged. “Then I asked him to redesign the website for my bakeries.”

“Mummy told me that you and Billy are coming home for Christmas. I can’t wait.”

“Yes, Daddy, we are. I’m sure Billy will try to go to Paris, but I’ll make sure he’s here.”

Mr. Holmes smiled, then nodded. “Vic, he is far too much like his Mummy. Please get that man out of his head as often as possible.” 

Victor laughed, ruffling his hair. “I try.” 

“You’re a good man, Victor Trevor,” Mr. Holmes said, firmly.

“Thank you, sir,” Victor said, shyly. “It’s been a long time since someone said that to me.”

“It’s been far too long in my opinion,” Mr. Holmes smiled kindly at the young man. 

“So, when Billy says, “what did you and Daddy talk about?” I’ll make up a scandalous tale.”

“Sounds great,” Mr. Holmes laughed, before he hugged his son’s boyfriend. Victor hugged him back, and sighed for a moment.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Well, let’s get back out to the kitchen so Mummy can fuss over you.” 

“She’s been kind and only mentioned that I’m too thin once.” 

“You are awfully thin, but I think if you keep eating like you did this morning, you’ll fill out just fine.”

Victor smiled at the fussing and pressed the sweet feeling of home into his memory. He followed his boyfriend’s father to the kitchen, and sat down by his boyfriend. The rest of breakfast passed quickly, and Sherlock disappeared to dress. Victor sat at the kitchen table, chatting with his boyfriend’s family when Mrs. Holmes kissed him on top of his head and whispered ‘thank you’ in his ear.

His grin told everyone there was a secret, but no one dared ask. 


	2. A promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just sweet lovely evenings with our boys, Vic and Lock

Life at 53 Rupert Street was as calm as it could be with two madman living in it. Victor Trevor had his work at the British Museum while Sherlock Holmes was still in school. From the apartment to Victor’s job at the British Museum, it only took ten minutes to get there. From the apartment to Sherlock’s school, it took thirty minutes, but Sherlock could cut it down to twenty-three by taking his shortcuts. 

Living with another human was a bit stressful, but nothing terrible. It was just minor things like Victor never picked up his socks or Sherlock often used the milk without replacing it. They both hated cleaning, so they hired someone for that. She was quiet, and cleaned when no one was home. 

Domestic life at the Holmes-Trevor apartment was as peaceful as it could be. 

  
  


Victor rushed around his apartment lighting candles, sprucing the place up, and putting the finishing touches on the dinner he was cooking.

He ducked into the bathroom, and stared at himself. His face was average looking and thankfully didn’t show the scars he carried in his mind. His skin was clear of acne, and his eyebrows were shaped in the way he liked them. Quickly he washed his face, and brushed his teeth. 

From the bathroom, he sauntered into the bedroom. The man stripped down naked, before he pulled his Westwood-slim-cut suit on. Minding the creases he dressed carefully. He went back to the bathroom, and fixed his hair. He stood up straight and smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

“Quite good looking, if I say so myself.” 

Victor hurried out to the kitchen, and threw an apron on over his suit. He picked up the cordless phone, and dialed Mrs. Holmes. He put the phone on speaker, and went back to stirring the pot on the stove.

“Evenin’, Mummy,” Victor greeted once the line was picked up. “Did Billy leave yet?”

“Just about ten minutes ago! He took a cab. Something about tonight being really important.”

“I’m cooking him dinner, Mummy. It’s our one year anniversary. The flowers you sent are gorgeous, and the wine you choose? Daddy’s a lucky man.” 

“Daddy’s a broke man,” Mrs. Holmes laughed. “Oh, Vic. I think he’s going to propose to you tonight!”

“I should hope so, Mummy! He’s been carrying that ring around for weeks.” 

Mrs. Holmes laughed, “Vic, he’s so lucky.”

Victor laughed, and turned the stove off. “I think I’m the lucky one, Mummy… Ooh! I hear a cab. I’ll talk to you later, Mummy.”

“Bye Vic, love you!”

“Love you too, Mummy!” Victor said, clicking the phone off. He placed it back on the receiver, and pulled the apron over his head. He hung it up, and smoothed out his suit out. He went over to the side of the table, and picked up the water glass by his plate. He took a quick swallow. 

The door to the apartment opened, and closed with a firm ‘click'. Sherlock locked the door, and hung up his jacket.

“Hello, love,” Victor said, smiling widely, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

“Vic!” Sherlock greeted him grinning widely. He toed off his shoes, and his socks followed. He disappeared into the bathroom, threw his socks into the hamper, and washed his hands. He reappeared in the kitchen, and pulled his boyfriend into his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“Well, you’ve been a busy lad,” Victor smiled, bumping his hip against Sherlock’s. “Would you like a glass of wine? Mummy sent it to us.”

“Oh, a red? Of course!” Sherlock kissed his boyfriend quickly before he sat down at the table. “What did you make for dinner?” Sherlock asked, as Victor poured him a glass of wine.”

“Pan fried chicken and pasta,” Victor smiled, walking over to the stove. He brought the pans over to the table, and served his boyfriend before he served himself. “How was class today?”

“Oh everyone’s an idiot but me, you know the way it goes.” Sherlock took a sip of wine, and smiled widely. “How’s the museum?”

“Brilliant as ever. The other day I met a gentleman who helped restore the sixteenth chapel.” 

“Did you actually talk to him?” Sherlock asked, as he took another sip of wine.

Victor burst out in laughter, “Of course I did!”

“You’re not the shy man you used to pretend to be,” Sherlock said, cutting his chicken carefully. 

“And you’re not the distant arsehole you used to pretend to be,” Victor countered, with a smirk. 

“Aren’t I?” Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrows with a bit of a smile.

“Regardless, I’m really glad that you decided to talk to me,” Victor laughed, and brushing his hair out of his eyes. “That damn hair gel!”

Sherlock laughed, and tucked into his meal. “This is so good,” Sherlock said, using his fork to point at the plate.

Victor laughed, and placed his fork down. “It’s just pasta, Billy.”

“I haven’t eaten in nearly fifteen hours,” Sherlock admitted, as he shoveled pasta into his face. 

“We talked about this.” Victor glanced his boyfriend over, and thought hard. He was missing something… Something vital. “God, I can’t wait to touch you.”

Sherlock paused with a mouthful of pasta, some hanging out, and glanced up. “Me?”

“You are so attractive. I wish you could see yourself.”

Sherlock swallowed what was in his mouth, and delicately wiped his mouth. Sherlock leaned back in the chair, and crossed his legs. Light green eyes met dark brown ones, and for just a moment, the world melted away. 

In that moment, Victor knew this was his future. He knew that everything this man was all he ever needed in life. To say that Sherlock felt the same was the understatement of the year. 

Sherlock blinked, causing Victor’s own eyes to blink. Victor continued to stare at his boyfriend when finally he burst out, “Snacks count, you know.” 

Sherlock smirked, “Took you long enough.” Sherlock unfolded himself, and scooted his chair in. Silently, the men returned to their meal. After a moment, Sherlock poured his boyfriend more wine. Sherlock added another piece of chicken and pasta to his plate. 

“Billy boy, you know that I have far too much in my brain to instantly play your game the moment you walk into the door,” Victor chided, trying not to smile as he took a sip of wine. 

Sherlock ignored that statement to ask excitedly, “Did you get me a present?”

“Why would I do that?” Victor asked before he took a bite of his food. He placed his fork and knife down beside his plate. He took a sip of wine, and waited for his boyfriend to speak. Sherlock studied the handsome face before him as he finished his wine glass. 

“You know!”

Victor laughed a little bit, and placed his hands in his lap. “Well, I know a lot of different things-”

“You know exactly what  _ thing _ I’m referring to in this moment.” Sherlock chewed his forkful of food thoughtfully. “You’re the one who said it was a very big deal. That couples always celebrated these sort of things.”

“I don’t know!” 

“You’re enjoying this teasing! I can’t believe my very own-” Victor started laughing, covering his mouth with his napkin. Sherlock groaned. “Vic! That’s not very nice.”

“What isn’t?”

“Where’s my present?” Sherlock asked, impatiently. 

Victor laughed, and refilled Sherlock’s wine glass. “There is no present, you nosy little shit.” 

Sherlock pouted, “There is a present because you told me to have one.”

“I love our new bedroom set. It’s beautiful.”

“It should for the thousands of pounds that I spent,” Sherlock murmured, before he took another sip of wine. “Now, where is my present?”

“You’re a nosy little shit that ruins any fun I’m able to have with gift giving.” 

Sherlock hummed happily, a flash of mischief in his eyes. “So where is it?”

“Oh, go on with you. Go check the bathroom closet.”

“The bathroom closet? I never would have looked there!” Sherlock said, running into the bathroom. Victor took a deep draught of his wine, and smiled to himself as he pictured his boyfriend rifling through the bathroom closet. Sherlock came out of the bathroom wrapped in his anniversary present. Sherlock held his arms up, and inspected every inch of it.

“It’s a Belstaff brand. The Milford coat. You look amazing.” Victor smiled happily as he appraised his boyfriend. “I mean, you always look delicious.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sherlock said, as he dashed around the flat with satisfying woosh of the tails. “This is amazing! Do you hear that noise? Woosh!” 

Victor leaned back in his seat and let out a hearty laugh. “You never sit still, and I figured I'd at least be able to hear you coming.” 

Sherlock swirled around watching his jacket fan out around it. He stopped, and stumbled over to where Victor was sitting. He lowered himself to his knees and fussed with the coat making sure it fanned out the way he wanted it too. Victor grasped Sherlock’s cheeks in his hand to bring the attention back to him.

“This is the best present I have ever received. Thank you so much, Vic.” Sherlock leaned on one of his boyfriend’s hands. 

“You’re thin, and you refuse to wear a jacket. So I figured-”

“Stop being practical. Enjoy my praise. You picked a perfect present.” 

Victor blushed slightly, and then smirked. “Since you’re down there, do you want to ask me something?”

“Oh, naughty. You’ve been talking to Mummy, haven’t you?”

“Excuse me, Mummy is my best friend.”

“Mummy’s boy,” Sherlock teased before he leaned up to kiss him. Victor pulled back, and gently bumped his forehead into Sherlock’s.

“Are you jealous?” 

Sherlock gently bumped his forehead into Victor’s. “Of course I am. I’ve always been Mummy’s favorite.” 

Victory kissed Sherlock sweetly again. “Now, sir, if you will play nicely.” Victor held his hand out to Sherlock. Sherlock grinned, then shook his head ‘no’. “Where is it? In your underwear drawer?” 

Sherlock groaned, and shook his head. “Don’t be obvious.” 

“”Is it in your backpack?”

“You aren’t even trying to guess.”

Victor ran his hand down Sherlock’s cheek, and for just a moment Sherlock closed his eyes with pleasure written all over his face. “My darling lad, I know you have it.”

Sherlock’s grin came before he opened his eyes as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out his close fist. He held it up to Victor. “This isn’t how I planned on it.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t plan on meeting my husband in college either.”

“This is why I wanted Paris at Christmas.”

“Christmas?” Victor asked in surprise. “How am I supposed to last until Christmas?”

“I-” Sherlock cut himself off, and just stared at Victor. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“What are you thinking?” 

“How I was so fucking lonely before you.” 

Victor nodded in understanding. “I’m thinking about that time I was pacing the small common room of the dorm while you tutored practically everyone on that floor before I asked you out.”

“I remember that.”

“You sort of blinked and nodded your head.” Victor placed a small kiss on Sherlock’s forehead. “Now it’s my turn, smarty pants. Impress me.”

Sherlock laughed quietly, thinking. He inhaled a deep breath and exhaled after a moment. “Victor Trevor, I’ve spent some time in my mind palace and every time I try to construct a future without you, I fail. Please wear this ring as a sign to others that you intend to grow old and die with me.” Sherlock flipped his hand over, and held it out to Victor. He opened his palm and on it laid a delicate ring. “After all, I knew it the moment we moved in together. This is a symbol of our intentions to each other, but it tells everyone else that you are mine.”

Victor started laughing, and slipped the band on. “If you mention about the gentoo penguin bringing his sweetheart a special rock-”

“Well, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I searched for the prettiest rock to bring my mate. I made a presentation of it, and now we’re having the traditional post-proposal bicker.” 

“Did Mycroft tell you that?”

Sherlock smiled, and gently bumped his forehead against Victor’s. “Will you wear this ring to signify to others that you’re taken?”

“Be still my beating heart. You are so romantic.” 

Sherlock snorted dismissively. “Be my husband, Vic. Please, let’s make a family together.” 

Victor nodded his head, as tears welled up in his eyes. “Well, I  _ am  _ Mummy’s favorite.” Sherlock stood up, and helped Victor to his feet. They embraced for a long time. Victor patted Sherlock’s back to signal that he needed space. 

Victor sat back down on his seat, and absentmindedly sipped his wine. He crossed his legs, and placed his left hand on his knees. He stared at the simple band. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted. Thank you, Billy boy.” 

  
  
  


“Vic!” Sherlock called, as he fiddled with the buttons on his pants. “I need help with this costume,” Sherlock called into the bedroom. Victor hustled into the room, and made a tisking noise. 

“I don’t know why you had to dress like a Victorian detective.” 

“Not all of us can pull off Jack the Ripper.” 

“I’m hoping you pull The Ripper off later,” Victor laughed as he finished buttoning his boyfriend’s shirt up. Victor used his hands to smooth out Sherlock’s shirt. 

“Is that flirting?” Sherlock laughed, placing a small kiss on Victor’s forehead. 

“Would you prefer I just state that I want you to fuck me tonight?” Sherlock grinned, but hid his face in Victor’s neck. “So I shouldn’t mention that I want to suck your dick at the party tonight? We could slip into my office and-”

“Oh, stop!” Sherlock said, with a bit of a whine. “We’re going to your work. You’re going to show me off, allow me to donate an absurd amount of money, and be a trophy-”

“You’ll never be a trophy husband. That’s my job.” Sherlock groaned, and ran his fingers through his wild curls. Victor gently bumped Sherlock’s forehead with his own. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

Victor laced his fingers with his fiance's, and gave them a squeeze. “It’s going to be so much fun. I can’t wait to show you off.”

“Show me off?” Sherlock scoffed, but still smiled.    
  


“My student is going to be there. She’s really-”

“If you say nice, I’m going to scream. I’m so bored with nice…” Sherlock said as Victor’s cell phone beeped in his shirt pocket. Sherlock pulled it out, read over it, and handed it back to Victor with an eye roll. “Myc?” 

Victor sent the call to voicemail. “He wants me to sign a prenup. Mummy must have told him we’re engaged.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes again, and glanced into the mirror. “Is it time to go?” 

“Will you have fun for me, Billy boy?”

“Anything you desire. Shall I fetch a cab?” Sherlock asked, as he headed to the door. Victor nodded, and watched his fiance walk out of the house. 

Victor looked down at his ring and smiled. He twisted it around his finger once. Twice. Thrice. He snagged his keys and his wallet before he exited the apartment to meet Sherlock.

The cab ride to the benefit was a quiet affair. Victor firmly held Sherlock’s hand in his, and watched the beautiful city go by. A quiet contented sigh escaped from Victor’s mouth. Sherlock glanced over at the same time Victor did. They met eyes, and held a silent conversation. Sherlock smirked before he turned away.

“You’re totally in love with me,” Sherlock announced. 

“Great deduction there, Billy Boy. Did you remember the check?”

“Oh, damn, I knew I forgot something.”

Victor glanced over at him, and laughed. “It’s in your pocket.”

“Mummy would never forgive if I forgot the checks.” 

“Mummy and Daddy donated?”

Sherlock glanced over, before he put on Mummy’s voice. “My son is raising money for the arts, Daddy will give him a check.” 

Victor laughed, and covered his mouth with his hand. Before he could respond, the car stopped moving. Victor exited the car, while Sherlock paid the cab. Together the men walked into the Reading room. 

Victor paused for a moment to observe the grandeur of the building. “I love this place.”

Sherlock looked aorund the room, and laughed. “Oh, this is going to be a fun evening.” 

“I’m glad you agree.”

“Let’s get a drink and then we can mingle-”

“Do you see that lady with the gray-streaked hair over there? She’s sleeping with her daughter’s boyfriend,” Sherlock whispered in Victor’s ear. 

Victor suppressed a smile, and looked around. He pointed with a nod of his head. “There! Read Ryan.”

“Ryan?” Sherlock asked, with a large smile. “Ryan’s easy. Fatty liver, enlarged aorta, and going to be dead in a month.” 

Victor shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s not true!” 

“No, you’re right,” Sherlock said with a straight face. “It’s six months.” 

The two men burst into laughter, and Victor leaned against his fiance. Victor took Sherlock’s hand, and led him through the crowded room. Everywhere you looked there were vampires, mummys, ghosts, and all sorts of “sexy” somethings. 

Sherlock smiled at the bartender, and asked for two of the speciality drinks. He threw a fifty pound note in the tip jar. Victor looked around them. He spotted his student, and shouted loudly to her. “Sophia Moran!” 

The young woman looked for the person calling her name and lit up like a christmas tree when she realized it was Victor. “Vic Trevor!” she shouted back, and pulled a man over with her. 

“Soph! You look amazing!” Victor greeted her and gave her a tight hug. 

“Vic, so do you!” 

“This is my fiance, Billy. Billy boy, this is Soph.” 

“This is my brother, Sebastian. He’s only here for the food.”

Victor held his hand out to shake the new man’s hand. The other man grabbed his hand firmly and shook it briefly. “Sophie speaks highly of you.”

“Oh! She’s brilliant!”

“Vic, stop it!” Sophia blushed, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Did you really have to go as Jack The Ripper?”

“Well, we all can’t be princesses.”

“I’m a princess,” Sherlock said, absentmindedly.

“I’m the tooth fairy. Check the wings,” Sophia said defensively as Victor dissolved into giggles. 

“Take the weekend off. I’ll see you Monday, Fairy Floss.” 

“You take the weekend off, Vic.”

Sherlock handed Victor a drink, and the pair left Sophia. “Have fun!” Victor shouted, as they walked away. 

“Do you see that man in the cow costume?” Victor nodded, sipping his drink. “I don’t know why he dressed up as a cow, he is very clearly the horse’s ass.”

Victor started laughing and burying his face in Sherlock’s shoulder. “That’s Finley. We should go give him Mummy’s check.”

“Then we can disappear into your office?”

“Sherlock!” Victor said, turning pink. “I’m going to pretend that it was the drink that made you say that.”

“Oh, it wasn’t,” Sherlock said, smiling. “I’m just trying to enjoy myself, like you had wanted.” 

Victor glanced up at his love, and finished his drink off. “Let’s go before I get ‘mean drunk.’”   


Sherlock snorted, and followed Victor over to the man. 

“Mr. Finley, Hi,” Victor said, reaching into his fiance’s pocket. He produced two checks and held them out. “My fiance and I wanted to donate money.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Leslie.”

“Mr. Trevor,” Victor reminded him, shaking his head. “Don’t lose these checks!”

“No worries! I will get it to my father as soon as able.” 

“Thank you,” Victor smiled, pulled he pulled Sherlock away from the man.

“Who was that?” 

“He is the financial guy. His dad runs the museum.” 

“Nepotism at its finest,” Sherlock agreed, giving Victor’s hand a squeeze. 

Victor pulled Sherlock through the crowd and managed to make it to an elevator that was empty. Victor waited until the door was shut and pressed the basement button. Sherlock cocked a questioning eyebrow. Victor just smiled innocently. 

The basement door opened, and Victor just pulled Sherlock down a darkened hallway. Victor reached into a room, and flipped the light switch on. He pulled Sherlock into the room. It was bare with only a desk in it. 

“You know, if this door happens to go shut, no one can see in here,” Victor said innocently.

“Oh, why would you do that?” Sherlock asked, as he stepped into the room. Victor joined him, and let the office door slam. 

“I heard something about a firm dicking down,” Victor said, trying not to giggle.

“This is a party, sir. I am scandalized.” 

“Oh sod off,” Victor laughed, moving in closer to Sherlock. Sherlock wrapped his arms around Victor’s waist, and pulled him close. Victor leaned up on his tiptoes and gently kissed Sherlock’s lips. “Thank you for being such a good man, Billy Boy.” 

“Gross,” Sherlock said dismissively. 

“It’s not gross. You love me too.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and pulled Victor into his arms. “I do love you, now, let’s talk about this dicking down?”

“Just dance with me,” Victor said, swaying his hips. “You always hear music, let’s waltz.”

Sherlock finished his drink and placed it down on the desk. Sherlock started humming before he started leading Victor around the room. 

“Excuse me, dear!” Sherlock said, as they bumped into one of the walls. Victor giggled, and added his own ‘pardon us!’ 

The pair waltzed around the small room and they took turns humming for them to dance too. Victor held Sherlock’s body close to his and focused on the way Sherlock's hips swayed with his. Victor pressed Sherlock’s look of pure joy into his memory as they swayed around the room. 

Sherlock gasped loudly, and stepped away from Victor. “I can’t dance with you! I’m engaged!”

Victor giggled, and stepped closer to Sherlock. “Don’t be afraid. I’m awfully nice!” 

“You’re a killer!” Sherlock said, backing up. Victor followed him until they bumped into the door. Sherlock gasped, and wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I won’t kill you,” Victor said, trying to be sexy. 

Sherlock blinked his eyes, and then burst out laughing at Victor. Victor joined in on the laughter. Before either of them knew what was happening, they were kissing. Hands were roaming, and clothing was being removed. 

  
  
  


Hours later, the pair returned from the basement. They didn’t look much different, just some extra creasing in their outfits. The pair made their way out of the building, and went out to the cold air. 

Victor touched Sherlock’s arm to pause him in his step. “Thank you for tonight. It was perfect, Mr. Holmes.” 

With a soft smile, and happiness written on his every feature, Sherlock responded, “You’re very welcome, Mr. Trevor.”

  
  
  
  
  



	3. Brotherly love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas themed chapter.

Sherlock Holmes flipped up his Bellstaff’s collar against the cold December air. He stamped his left foot then his right. He glanced behind himself and saw his two brothers bundled up to the nose smoking as they waited for him. 

“Can you hurry this up? Mummy’ll kill us if we’re late!” Benjamin called. “I only agreed to this because Mycroft threatened to tell Mummy that I got a tattoo.” 

“You shouldn’t have gotten a tattoo,” Mycroft said logically. 

“Billy boy!” a voice cried out, hurrying towards him. Sherlock turned to see his fiance hustling over to meet him. Victor was wrapped in a thick coat, a woolen hat, a bright blue scarf and bright red mittens from the landlady.

Sherlock’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. “Vic!”

Victor Trevor wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist as Sherlock wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck. The two men stood together, snuggling for a moment. Victor took a step back, and leaned up to kiss his fiance quickly. “You didn’t bring anything!” Victor chided, unwrapping his own scarf and wrapping it around Sherlock’s neck. “Where’s your gloves and your hat?”  
  


“I forgot them.”

“You know it’s December, in London! It’s practically the arctic here.” 

“See? You need to come to Sherrinford with me. I’d forget my head if it weren’t attached.”

“You’ll be fine until I get there. Mr. Moran is coming by to pick up Sophia’s things…” Victor paused getting lost in his head for a moment. “It just.” Victor sorted through his thoughts for a moment, then asked the same question the pair of them had been bandying back and forth since it happened. “Who breaks into a house to not steal stuff?”

“It just doesn’t feel right.” 

  
  


Victor leaned up again and kissed Sherlock’s lips. Victor pulled his own stocking cap onto Sherlock’s head. It barely fit due to all Sherlock’s hair. “It’s really terrible… I miss her so much-”

“Lock! Let’s go!!!!” Benjamin called, stamping out his cigarette. Victor glanced over Sherlock’s shoulder, and waved to Sherlock’s family. 

“My darling Billy. Behave yourself until we’re together again,” Victor said, taking Sherlock’s face in his hands. “I love you.”

“Please, come with us. I’m going to die-”

“You’ll be fine with your family. I’ll text you tonight. Drive safely!”

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but a light snow started falling. The wet snow landing on his cheeks and eyelashes surprised him. He put his hand into his trouser pockets and pulled out a small ring. He held it up to Victor. “Please wear this.”

Victor shook his head, and kissed Sherlock again. “Keep it safe for me.”

“I won’t go to Mummy’s if you don’t wear this. I’ll book us a flight to Paris.”

Victor sighed loudly, and gently bumped foreheads with Sherlock. He put his engagement band on and placed a quick kiss on Sherlock’s lips. “Be safe, Billy boy.”

“No, you please be safe, Victor. I love you so much,” Sherlock said, as he dusted some snow off the top of Victor’s head. “Promise me you’ll be safe?”

“Safer than houses, Billy.”

“Bye, Vic.”

“Oh, my darling.”

A loud sigh behind the snowy couple reached them, and Sherlock bent down quickly to kiss Victor before he turned and walked away. Victor stood rooted to the spot, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Bye, Billy! I’ll see you soon!”

“Bye Vic!” Benjamin and Mycroft chorused each other as Sherlock climbed into the cab. He slid all the way over to the window and pulled his phone out. Quickly he typed out a message and sent it.

** _I love you so much, Victor Trevor. Please remember that. Don’t be stupid. XXXXX Billy_ **   
  


“Locky, is it true? You and Vic are getting hitched?” Benjamin asked, as he threw a set of gloves, hat, and scarf at Sherlock. 

“Yes, we are.”

“Does Victor make you weak in the knees?” Benjamin asked with a giggle.

“He shouldn’t. He’s an aborrhant man. He refuses to meet with the lawyer about a prenup,” Mycroft added, as he shut the door. The car pulled away from the curb. 

“You’re not in charge of this situation and you hate it!” Sherlock countered, nudging Benjamin with his knee. “You always try to tell Benji and I what to do when you don’t even know anything.”

“Excuse me!” Mycroft said, obvious offense coloring his voice. 

“You should see him at work, Lock. He’s like ‘This is my youngest brother, Benjamin. Don’t talk to him though, he’s a loser.” Everyone listens to him. It’s utter nonsense.”

“They listen because you’re a liar.”

“I am not!”

“Yes you are!”

“How?”

“You turned off the security cameras and broke into my office. Besides the cameras being spray-painted, they saw you bringing spray cans into work.”

“I maintain that wasn’t my fault.”

“What happened, Benji?” Sherlock asked, slightly interested in their workplace hijinks.

“Someone broke into Mycroft’s office and spray painted an ice man with a threatening umbrella on his original Monet painting.” 

Sherlock glanced at Mycroft who looked furious and then back to Benjamin who looked quite pleased, he burst into laughter. 

“It’s not funny, William.”

“It’s better than you deserve.” 

“If I had done it, I would have strung up women’s pants all over his office.”

Sherlock started laughing harder. “Remember when we were at the store, and Daddy found him looking at the old lady pants?” 

Benjamin joined into Sherlock’s laughter. “Yes! He was redder than the satin pants he was touching.”

“I got lost!” Mycroft defended himself, sniffily. 

“In the women’s pants section? We didn’t even have Mummy with us!” Benjamin pointed out. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Sherlock glanced at his brother and then back out the window. He had trouble stifling his laughter. Benjamin beside him shook with laughter. 

“I hate the pair of you!” Mycroft said primly, and he used his knee to shove Benjamin out of the way.

“He hates us, Locky! What shall we do?” Benjamin said in mock surprise.

“Oh, no! I guess we’ll just have to cry ourselves to sleep!”

“Maybe we could find a big old spider and put it in Mycie’s bed!” Benjamin suggested. 

“Oh, please, he’d pick the spider up and have it voting for the next PM,” Sherlock said, with a smile. “We’ll have to use a slimy frog!”

“A frog?” Benjamin squealed, laughing. “The slimiest one we can find!” 

“With all the warts!” 

Mycroft exhaled loudly. “You are proper arseholes.” 

“I think we just won, Lock!” Benjamin said, slinging his arm around Sherlock’s shoulder. “I missed you,” He added softly so that Mycroft couldn’t hear him.

“Vic adores you. We meant it when we said you could move in with us.”

“Oh, thank you, Lock, but really I’m ok. My place-”

“Is squalid! Not fit for a Holmes!”

“Plus, I heard you have a black neighbor,” Sherlock added in a mocking tone. 

“And Indian neighbors. Mrs. Black’s curries are a work of art though.”

“This is very serious. You could be murdered, or robbed. Or worse.”

“Oh, and her naan! Amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever had a bad dish,” Benji said ignoring his brothers. 

“I don’t know what’s worse than death, Mycroft,” Sherlock pointed out. 

“Being locked in your mind, and your body is a vegetable.” 

“Oh, Mycie!” Benjamin said, nudging him gently. “That’s why you avoid leg work.” 

“I do leg work.” 

“No you don’t,” The pair of younger brothers said at the same time. 

“Regardless, I need silence. The roads are snowy and I have to call the PM in less than ten minutes.”

“A thousand apologies, my liege!” Benjamin said, sarcastically.

Sherlock giggled to himself, and leaned his head against his brother’s shoulder. “Oh, tut tut, now! He only likes to be called ‘liege’ when he’s wearing a crown-”

“Silence!” Mycroft said, sternly with a hard glare at both his brothers. Sherlock glanced at Benjamin and struggled not to burst out laughing. 

Benjamin fished in his pocket, and pulled his cell phone out. He passed something brown and hard to Sherlock, who took it and inspected it. 

It was dark brown leather square measuring 115mm x 85mm. It was a bifold wallet. Sherlock glanced up at his brothers. Benjamin was focusing on his text messages, but Mycroft was leaning his head back rubbing his nose. Sherlock opened the wallet, and inside was three credit cards, a license, a MI-6 badge, and a hundred pound note. 

Sherlock glanced at Benjamin who mimed throwing it out the window. Sherlock shook his head, and tucked it into his pocket. Benjamin looked at him curiously and Sherlock winked his eye. 

The rest of the ride to Sherrinford was silent between the brothers. When Mycroft was on the phone with the PM, the younger boys were silent as church mice. As soon as Mycroft hung up his call, they were pulling into the drive of Sherrinford.

“I hate this old house,” Mycroft managed to say, with a bit of a shiver.

“What did the PM say?” Benjamin asked, as he craned his neck to look out the windows. “I love the house covered in snow.”

“Remember when we were little and Daddy helped us go ice skating?”

“Another time that Mycie was too good for us!” Benjamin accused their eldest brother. 

“I hate snow,” Mycroft said, as he reached across the brothers to get his hat, scarf, and gloves. He pulled them on before he opened the door. Sherlock opened his own door, and left it open to run around in the shin deep snow. 

Benjamin followed him, and bent down to roll up a snowball. He flung it at Sherlock who squeaked, then made his own to fire back. 

“You’re a bad aim!” Benjamin taunted, making another one to throw at Sherlock. 

“Well, when you bend over you’re bigger than the broad side of a barn!”

“What do you know about barns?” Mycroft said, dismissively. He was pulling luggage out of the trunk of the black car. 

Benjamin and Sherlock shared a look, and scooped snowballs up. They threw them at Mycroft and kept lobbing them as he sputtered weak protests.

“Stop, you two! I’m going to tell Mummy! Stop!” 

“Wah, wah!” Benjamin said, releasing another snowball. 

“Mummy! The boys-” Sherlock stomped his foot before he threw another at Mycroft. “Are working together to pester me!”

“Oh, my god, that sounds like him.”

Mycroft grabbed his two bags and turned to go into the house. He pushed the door open and placed his bags down. 

Sherlock grabbed another snowball, and so did Benjamin. They snuck up behind Mycroft and shoved snowballs down the back of his coat. The two boys laughed loudly. They pulled their shoes off, before they started to run away. 

Sherlock shed his clothing as he ran. He lost his hat first, then his gloves, and then his belstaff. He hung that up on a coat rack, thank you very much. He glanced around before he turned into the servant’s quarters to get to his parents’ before his other brothers. 

His long strides were only hindered by him pulling wet socks off. He unbuttoned his shirt as he ran and left it behind as he burst out of the servant’s entrance in the living room. However the scarf that Victor had lovingly placed around his neck was still there. 

Both his parents looked up with a big smile. “Billy! We didn’t even hear you boys pull up!” 

“Mycroft was throwing snowballs at Benji and I,” Sherlock said, panting loudly. “I-”

“Mycroft was throwing snowballs?” Daddy asked, placing his newspaper to the side. Was that a hint of a smile on Daddy’s face?

“Oh, yes! He said, “I hate you stinky monkeys! Take a bath!” Then he threw snowballs at us.”

“It’s true, Mummy!” Benjamin agreed, appearing beside Sherlock in just his pants.

“Where is your clothing, Benjamin?”

“They got wet because Mycroft threw snow at us.” 

“I did not throw snowballs!” Mycroft said, appearing behind his two younger, yet taller brothers. “They worked together to pester me!”

“Mycie, why would your little brothers do that? They love you!” Daddy asked, trying not to laugh.

“We just want to play with him!” Sherlock said, trying to pout innocently. 

“I do not _ play _,” Mycroft said the last word disdainfully. “I’m a serious grown up.”

“You’ve always been a serious grown up,” Benji pointed out. “Maybe if you smiled more, you would be happier in your life.” 

“What do you know about happiness?” Mycrot snapped. 

“Boys!” Mummy said sharply. “Mycroft, go finish bringing the luggage in so Mr. Randall can go home. Benji and Billy, go shower.” Mummy paused a moment, then added. “Separately and in your own showers.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and ruffled his own hair. “Geeze, Mummy. We aren’t babies.” 

“She has to give specific instructions because you’re a troublemaker.” Benji said as the pair walked away. 

“We have to balance out Mycie and his goody-two shoes.”

Benji groaned, and stopped walking. “Daddy’s going to make us cut down a tree.” 

“That is your job. Mine is stringing popcorn and cranberries.” 

“That’s because you’re the only one who can sit still that long to do that,” Benji pointed out. “I can’t wait for Vic to show up. I like him better than you.”

“Me too,” Sherlock admitted with a smile. The pair walked up the grand stairs together. “I seriously held onto his waist this morning and refused to let go.”

“Why isn’t he here?”

“Because his assistant got murdered-”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Sherlock sighed, and walked into his bedroom. He grabbed a blanket off the bed and curled up in front of his favorite chair by the large fireplace. Benji watched Sherlock, and then hurried off to his bedroom. 

In a few minutes, Benji was back and curled up in his own chair. “Assistants don’t get murdered, Locky.” 

“Well, _ she _did,” Sherlock said, pushing his hair off his forehead. “God, I need a haircut.”

“Focus, Locky.”

Sherlock pulled his hands out of the blanket cocoon and pulled a hair tie out. He pulled his long, wild curls out of his face and into a top knot. “Vic said that Sophia’s apartment was broken into, trashed, but nothing was stolen. Who does that? Who breaks into a random apartment and breaks a bunch of stuff but doesn’t steal anything?”

“Nothing was stolen? Not even pills or guns?” 

“Nothing, but you know the local police are morons.” 

“So why is Victor stuck at work?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and tucked himself back into his blanket. “Some rich arsehole booked the museum for his children tomorrow. Sophia was supposed to do it. However, she died, so Vic has to stay.”

“Some rich arsehole or the crowned prince?”

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. “Does it matter?” 

Benji thought about it, then rubbed his nose. “It doesn’t, but I still wish Vic were here.”

Sherlock nodded his head, and leaned on his own drawn up knees. “Will you come to our civil ceremony, Benji?” Sherlock cleared his throat. “For when Vic and I get married?” 

“Of course I will-”” Benji looked over at his big brother and there was fear written all over his face. “Nothing will stop me from coming to your ceremony, Locky.” 

Sherlock nodded his head, and studied the fire. “You know Mummy’s going to come looking for us soon.”

“She’ll look in the room, see us talking, and then she’ll walk away to shout at us to hurry up.”

“Mummy’s boy.” 

Benji laughed. “That’s rich coming from Mummy’s favorite.”

“I’m not Mummy’s favorite. Vic is.”

“I’m Daddy’s favorite.”

Sherlocked laughed. “Of course you are, Benji.” 

“I like talking to you, big brother. You don’t ask stupid questions.”

“That’s because I’ve observed all I need to know.” 

“You’re much nicer about it than Mycie. He spent twenty minutes telling me off because I broke up with Tom, again.”

“Mycie’s a stuffy old man. We exist outside of him.” 

“Boys!” Mummy’s voice called out. “Do you want a cuppa?”

“Please, Mummy!” Sherlock called back. 

“We didn’t bathe yet,” Benji added, loudly. “We’re sitting in front of the fire and talking.” 

“That’s okay, boys.” 

Benji raised an eyebrow at Sherlock who shrugged. “She’s probably just happy to have her boys home.”

“She lives with Daddy. I don’t know how she could want more boys.” 

“Daddy is too old to romp and play like we do,” Benji yawned. “I stayed up late last night to finish some reports. Apparently no one gets this amount of time off at the holidays.”

“It’s your last name that gets you what you want. Everyone knows Mummy, and Mycie is such a corporate ladder climber.” 

“Oh, please most people at my job can’t stand him.”

“That’s because he’s not Mycie… He’s “stick up his arse” Mycroft.” 

Benji giggled loudly as Mummy walked in with the tea tray. “Hi Mummy!” her sons chorused. 

“Hello, my boys. What are my troublemakers up too?” 

“We’re just talking, Mummy,” Benji said innocently. “Thank you for getting me off for the holidays.”

“You’re welcome, son mine.” 

“Mummy,” Sherlock said in a soft ‘I’m trying not to cry’ voice, “I really wanted Vic to come with us sooner, but he isn’t able.” 

Mummy placed the tea tray down and nodded her head. “And my sweet inpatient Billy can’t handle that, can he?”

“Mummy, I love him-” Sherlock glanced up at Mummy with tears welling in his eyes.

“Benny, why don’t you go take a nice, hot bath while I talk to Billy?”

“Mumm!!” Benji whinged, but stood up to go.

“You’re a good boy, Benny,” Mummy said, sitting down on Sherlock’s four-poster bed. “Come snuggle, Billy.” Benji helped himself to tea and shuffled out of the room. “A bath, lad. Don’t go curl up in your bed and take a nap.”

Benji waved his hand dismissively. “I’m going to nap, then bathe, then maybe come eat supper.” 

Mummy rolled her eyes, and patted the empty bed beside her. “Defiant brat.”

Sherlock uncurled himself and walked over to the bed. He plopped down on the bed next to his Mummy and laid his head on her shoulder. Silent tears were rolling down his cheeks. “I love him like I’ve never loved another… Not even you, Mummy.” 

“Do you want to know a secret, my boy?” Sherlock nodded his head. “I’ve never loved another like I love you.” 

“That’s because Daddy had enough love for the pair of you,” Sherlock said, trying to quiet his sniffling. “Do you love him now, Mummy?”

“Oh, Billy, of course I do,” Mummy said, with a bit of a sigh. “I keep having these moments where I look over at Daddy, and he’s doing that quirky mouth thing...My heart sort of skips a beat and I feel-”

“Safe.”

“Cherished.” 

“I never thought that I’d have something like that. Mycie always made it sound like a chore to date someone”

“Your brothers don’t have the same heart as you!” 

“Mycie doesn’t have a heart at all.” 

Mummy laughed, and gave her middle son a squeeze. “When you were younger, your hateful Grandmere told me that you would never love another human because you were so intelligent.” 

“I hated her.” 

“Me too,” Mummy agreed, rubbing Sherlock’s back gently. “Daddy wasn’t even her favorite son. Uncle Billy was. Then he went mad and that was poetic justice almost.”

“Uncle Billy was more fun when he was mad, though. Once, we climbed up into Grandmere’s attic, and did science together.”

Mummy laughed, and rubbed Sherlock’s back in a soothing circular motion. “Ah, yes, the day Grandmere called Daddy screeching because you had spiderwebs in your hair,” Mummy paused, and wiggled Sherlock’s bun “What is this, my love?”

“I’ve been really busy with school and Victor.”

“You still need a haircut,” Mummy said, in that motherly tone she sometimes had.

“Wait until you see Vic’s hair. It’s so long and swoopy.”

“Swoopy?” Mummy asked with a laugh. “What does that even mean?”

“His hair falls across his forehead in a swooping manner.” 

“So he needs a haircut, too?”

“Yes, he does.”

“Are you happy, Billy?” Mummy asked softly, as she rubbed Sherlock’s back. 

“Happier than I ever thought possible.”

Mummy nodded her head, and continued to rub Sherlock’s back. In the quiet of the large room, Mummy took a moment to remember her brilliant son as he was. Young, smart, active, and a bit of a nuinesce. “Why don’t you have a cuppa and then take a bath?”

“I just want to take a nap, please.” 

“When was the last time you slept?”

Sherlock thought a moment and sighed, “Three nights ago.”

“Oh, my boy,” Mummy started, then sighed. “I used to be just like you!”

“When was the last time you slept?” 

“I usually get about three to five hours a night. Daddy and I don’t sleep together anymore because his snoring kept me awake.”

“That sounds terrible, not having Vic’s warm body next to me.” 

“Lay down, William… Would you like me to play some violin?”

“Oh, Mummy!” Sherlock exclaimed in pleasure. “Please, would you?”

“I’m rusty, but of course I will darling.” Mummy kissed the top of Sherlock’s head, and stood up. Sherlock watched her leave the room, and he hurried to curl up under his blankets. He pulled Vic’s scarf off his neck and wrapped it around a spare pillow. Sherlock tucked the pillow under his chin and sighed. Vic’s cologne wafted towards his nose and again, he sighed. 

The first strains of Mummy tuning the violin hit Sherlock’s ears, and quickly lulled him to sleep. 

  
  
  
  


Hours later, Sherlock woke up to his cell phone buzzing nearby. He scrambled for it, and blearily tried to read the screen. 

** _I miss you. I can’t wait to see Sherrinford at xmas. I bet the snow makes it look magical. _ **

** _Aw, did my sweet Billy Boy fall asleep?_ **

** _You also forgot your violin. I’ll bring it when I come._**

** _Mummy called and mentioned that Daddy’ll cut our hair for us. That only took her 12 hours. _ **

** _Is my sweetheart still sleeping? I can’t remember how the reception is there. _ **

** _Billy Boy <3<3<3_ **

** _I love how your face scrunches up when you’re sleeping and you feel me stirring. _ **

** _I love you so much. Please have fun! _ **

Sherlock yawned loudly and pressed the call button on his phone. He laid it on Victor’s pillow. 

“Hey, Billy! I miss you.”

“I miss you too, where are you?”

“I'm still at the museum. I’m going to stay the night here. The snow turned into an ice storm so I just set up a cot, but I’ll be in Sherrinford this time tomorrow.” 

“I miss your voice. Benji and Mummy miss you.” 

“How many times did you two make Mycroft cry?”

“Not once. We threw snowballs at him, and stole his wallet. I’m going to wrap it up and stick it in his stocking.” 

“That’s a good start,” Victor said thoughtfully. “I miss you. It’s too calm around here.”

“It’s my Bellstaff. It’s very swishy.” 

The silence hung between the two men, comfortable and normal as breathing. 

“Did you sleep at all, Sherlock?” Victor asked, as he himself yawned loudly.

“I just woke up from a nap. Mummy played the violin.”

“What do you mean, you just woke up? It’s after eight o’clock.” 

“Mummy lulled me into a nap after talking about feelings.”

“Oh no, feelings,” Victor said with a yawn. “I keep touching my ring and thinking of you, wishing I were with you.”

“Benji already told me twice how he loves you.”

“I’m really glad you’re with your brothers. I’ll see you so soon.” 

“Did you ever download my violin music?” 

“Yes, I did. I’m going to put it on, and then sleep a bit.”

“I love you, Vic.”

“I love you, Billy. I’ll text you tomorrow morning before the private party comes. Then I’ll call you before I leave.” 

“I love you, Victor Tobias Trevor.”

Victor burst into laughter, and shook his head even though Sherlock couldn’t see it. “It’s not Tobias.” 

Sherlock laughed, “Goodnight, my darling.”

“Good night, Billy.”

Sherlock hung up his phone, and laid in his bed for just a minute. He sighed, and pushed his blankets away from himself. He wrapped himself in a blanket. 

Sherlock left his bedroom and wandered into his Mother’s bedroom. “Mummy, do you have a spare violin?” 

“How’s Vic doing, baby?” Mummy asked, flipping a page in her book. 

Sherlock smiled widely, and pulled his blanket around him tighter. “I just hung up with him. He’s tired, and he said that’d be here soon.”

“I can’t believe you hung up with him so quickly.”

“He was tired, Mummy. Please, do you have another violin?”

“I do, but you need to go to take a bath. I’ve been after you all day to shower. I’ll bring you a plate of dinner and I’ll make sure you have clean pajamas.”

Sherlock groaned. “Mummy, really?” 

“Yes, you need to take a bath. Unless you can convince me you took one today.”

Sherlock smiled widely, and sat down on his Mummy’s spare arm chair. “I took one with Vic this morning.” 

“Did you actually shower?”

Sherlock laughed. “You know what happens when two young lovers get together.”

“Really, William!” Mummy joined in his laughter. “Now you sound like, Daddy.” 

“Mummy!” Sherlock laughter turned into giggles.

“I’m going to pretend that you took a shower today. Go put trousers on. I’ll bring you a violin and a plate.” 

“Did Benji eat?” Sherlock asked. 

“He’s still asleep. Are you going to pest him?”

“You have the best ideas Mummy!” Sherlock said, jumping up off Mummy’s couch. He kissed his Mummy on top of her head before he ran from the room. Sherlock went back to his room, and shed the blanket. He pulled pjs from his drawers and hurried to put them on. 

Sherlock left his room, and dashed down the hallway to Benji’s room. Sherlock gently opened the door, and snuck into the dark, still room. The water was running in Benji’s private bathroom. Sherlock crept quietly to the door, and gently pulled it open. Inside the bathroom, it was bright and steamy. 

Sherlock put on a deep voice, and said loudly, “Benjamin Holmes! I’ve come-”

“Fuck off, Billy!” Benji shouted, picking up a bottle of something and winging it at him. 

Sherlock laughed loudly , and left his brother’s suite. He ran back to his bed, and jumped on it. He checked his phone again, but there were no messages. Sherlock watched his service bar fill up for just a minute, then go back down to one bar. He threw it to the side, and sighed loudly. 

Sherlock got off the bed, and paced around the room, disregarding the furniate. He thought about his fiance and started composing a violin piece he’d play at their wedding party. 

“Boo!” Benji shouted loudly, jumping in front of Sherlock. Sherlock’s entire body jumped. 

“Arsehole,” Sherlock said playfully shoving Benji. 

“Mummy brought food up, and asked me to snag my violin since I don’t play it ever.”

“I suppose I deserved that jump scare.” 

“Wanna sit and eat? We can insult each other more and plot against Mycroft,” Billy offered, sliding into his previously claimed arm chair. “Plus, I brought vino!” 

Sherlock laughed, and flopped down into his own chair. “Now, we’re talking, brother mine!” 


	4. The news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the night that Victor is coming from London

The tune of dueling violins filled the bottom floor of Holmes' manor. Mummy was playing ‘We Wish You A Merry Christmas’ while Sherlock was playing ‘We Three Kings of Orient.’ The cacophony of notes rang out all through the house. 

Earlier in the day, Benji and Daddy had chopped down a tree while Mycroft and Mummy baked gingerbread men to hang on it. Sherlock had spent hours putting popcorn and cranberries onto strings. 

Mycroft stood in the living room, glaring at the crooked ornament, wondering how he could manage to accidentally light the tree on fire. Benji and Daddy busily decorated the tree while Sherlock and Mummy played the violins. The smell of fresh popcorn and fresh ginger filled the air. Mummy had already kissed each of her boys under mistletoe. 

“We wish you a merry-” Daddy started, and Benji added “We three kings of oriental!” 

Mycroft closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kill me, already,” Mycroft murmured to himself. “Daddy, Benjamin. Can you just not sing right now?”

“Oohh, look Daddy! Our feast has managed to have a spector. What is a holiday without a spector!?” 

“He’s certainly pale enough,” Sherlock added, jovially. 

“Have a drink, Myc!” Daddy said in his usual cheerful manner. “Maybe you won’t be so tense.”   


“My family is stressful enough and now I have to decorate this stupid tree perfectly.” 

Benji smiled widely and made eye contact with Sherlock across the room. Benji walked by his oldest brother and mussed up his perfect russet hair. Mycroft’s eyes flew open, and he took a deep breath as he smoothed his hair out. 

“It’s ok, Mycie! It’s just hair.” Benji moved to the left of Mycroft to push his gingerbread ornaments off balance. 

Mycroft grumbled, but looked up at Mummy who was smiling. He smiled back, but still huffed, “Is it boxing day yet?” 

“Oh, hell. We know you can’t wait to get back to your precious Queen, but can’t you just pretend you want to be here?” Benji asked his oldest brother. 

“I want to be here,” Mummy said. “At home with all the people I love best.”

“Oh, Mummy, I want to be here with  **you** ,” Mycroft agreed, but left the rest of his sentence unsaid. 

Benji glanced at his Sherlock and shrugged his shoulders. He picked up a cookie ornament and strung a ribbon through it. 

“Why don’t you want to be with us, brother mine!” Sherlock added, with a laugh. 

A loud, sharp knock on the door interrupted this idyllic Christmas scene. Benji hastily hung up a cookie, and ran to the front door. “Victor’s here! Victor’s here!” Benji yelled cheerfully as he ran to the front door. He pulled the door open, and grinned widely. 

“Hullo, there, Vic!” Benji said brightly, then his entire body sagged when the man at the door wasn’t his dark haired soon to be brother-in-law.

“Good evening, sir. My name is Officer Gregory Lestrade. I’d like to speak to Mr. William Holmes.” 

“What do you want with my brother?” Benji said, setting his jaw and crossing his arms. “He ain’t done nothing stupid. He’s been with me all afternoon.” 

“Please,” the young brunet said. “This is a serious situation and I’m trying to reach Mr. William Holmes.” 

“Benny!” Daddy called with a laugh. “Let Victor in! Billy’s keen to see his young man.”

“Vic’s here?” Sherlock asked, screeching his last note. He threw his violin down, and ran to the front door. 

Sherlock froze when he saw a stranger at the door. Quickly, he read him.  _ Police. Engaged. Tired. Doesn’t want to be here. Not Victor. _

“That- That’s not Vic.”

“Hello, I’m Officer Gregory Lestrade and I’m looking for William Holmes.”

“It’s Sherlock,” Sherlock said, automatically annoyed. “My preferred name is ‘Sherlock.’”

“May I come in?”

Sherlock nodded his head, and tried to step away from the door. Benji held his arm out. “I don’t want you in this house. Where’s Victor?”

“Are you asking about Mr. Trevor?” 

“Yes, that’s my fiance,” Sherlock said firmly, refusing to move further into the house. 

“Boys, really,” Daddy appeared using a chiding tone. “You are freezing us out in the living room.” Daddy’s eyes fell on the stranger, and his tone changed. “Pardon me, sir. I assumed you were my son-in-law. Please come in.” Daddy invited the stranger in, and called over his shoulder. “Mycie, fetch us a cuppa.”

Mycroft looked at the knot of people walking into the room, and realized now was not the time to argue so he disappeared to the kitchen. 

Daddy led Gregory into the living room, and showed him where he should sit. “Oh, a cuppa isn’t necessary,” Gregory was trying to protest. 

“Who is he?” Sherlock asked his little brother, anxiously. “Where’s Vic? Why isn’t he here yet?”

“Why don’t we go find out?” Benji said, grabbed Sherlock’s hand pulling him into the other room. Benji sat down beside the stranger, but Sherlock didn’t move once he got into the other room. 

“Excuse me, Officer, where is my fiance?” 

The stranger cleared his throat, before he spoke. “Are you William Holmes?”

“Yes, I am.” 

“I regret to inform you that Mr. Victor Trevor has expired.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“What did you just say, officer?” Benji asked, aggressively. 

“There was a bad car accident just down the road, and Mr. Trevor is deceased.” 

“You’re lying,” Sherlock said loudly. “Vic is coming. He’s an excellent driver. He told me last night that he would be safe until I saw him. So you’re lying, because Vic loves me and he told me he’d be safe,” Sherlock said, his voice shaking. 

Mummy came over to him, and took his arm. “Billy-”

“No, Mummy!” Sherlock said sharply, “He’s lying. He has to be. My-” Sherlock stopped speaking, trying to read something in the stranger’s body that proved he was lying. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Holmes,” Gregory repeated. “But I-”

“Leave!” Sherlock shouted, loudly as tears welled over his eyes. “Vic is fine-”

Daddy nodded his head towards the front door. The stranger left the couch, and followed Daddy to the door. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Lestrade. We’ll handle it from here.”

Gregory dug into his pocket and pulled a business card out. “Please contact me, if there is anything I can do Mr. Holmes.” 

“We won’t hesitate to,” Daddy said.

Gregory dug into another pocket and pulled out a slim engagement band. Daddy gasped, and plucked it delicately from the other man’s fingers. “So it’s true?”

The officer nodded his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you for your time,” Daddy said as he escorted the officer out the door.

Sherlock was crying and screaming in his Mummy’s arms. “He’s lying, Mummy, he is!”

Benji stood on the other side of Sherlock and rubbed his back. “Locky,” Benji said softly. 

“No, he can’t be dead! He can’t-”

Daddy walked over to the knot of his family, and pulled Sherlock into his arms. Sherlock was sobbing, and making horrible screeching noises. “Daddy, it can’t be true.”

“Come on, my boy,” Daddy said sternly, and half pulled half dragged the taller man up the stairs. Benji followed close behind, and helped Daddy where he could. The two men put Sherlock into his bed, and Benji sat down beside him. 

Sherlock pulled the pillow with Victor’s scarf tied around it to his face. He buried his nose in the scarf and kept repeating, “It’s not true.” 

Benji gently touched his brother’s shoulder. “Hey, Locky.”

“It’s not true, it’s not true!” Sherlock said, as tears streamed down his face. 

Daddy gently elbowed Benji and held out an engagement ring with a splash of blood on it. Benji sighed loudly, and took it from Daddy. Quietly and calmly, Benji instructed his Daddy. “Call our family doctor and see if he can make an emergency house call. Then I want you to bring a cuppa for us.”

“Anything else?” Daddy asked, tucking his hands into his pocket. 

Benji smiled kindly, and shook his head. “No, Daddy, that’s enough for tonight.” 

Daddy nodded his head, turning to leave the room. Benji watched his father leave, and exhaled loudly. 

“Locky, it’s your Benny. I’m going to stay with you-   
  


Sherlock’s hand grabbed at his brother, and tugged on it once he found him. Benji curled up opposite Sherlock and brought a blanket up to their noses. “I’m here, Locky.”

“He can’t be gone,” Sherlock rasped. 

“Shh, I know brother mine. I’ve had Daddy call Dr. Smith to see if he could come give you something to help you sleep.”

“What’s the point of sleeping, Benjamin! Victor may be dead.”

“I know, but I want you to rest a bit while I think of a plan, ok?”

Sherlock’s words were cut off by fresh sobs. 

“Benny’s going to take care of you… Please let me.” 

Sherlock made eye contact, then nodded his head. 

“The officer gave Daddy something before he left, but it’s got blood on it-”

“Vic’s ring?” 

“How did you know?” 

Sherlock shrugged, and held his palm out for it. Benji gently placed it on Sherlock’s palm. Sherlock closed his fist around it, and tucked it into his neck. 

“Locky,” Benji whispered, applying some pressure to the base of Sherlock’s neck. 

“Where’s Mycie?” Sherlock asked, through his tears.

“I don’t know, Locky. My only thought was you.” 

Sherlock nodded his head. “The PM probably called.” 

“That’s a horrible thought, Locky. Imagine putting the country above your own family.” 

“Mycie’s always put his career before his family,” Sherlock snuffled, as he heard someone slowly walk up the steps. “Sounds like Mummy.”

“Of course it’s Mummy. Her favorite boy is hurt.” 

“I don’t want a cuppa.” 

“Oh, Locky,” Benji said in an imperious tone. “It’s not all about you, you know.”

Sherlock’s face twisted up in momentary pleasure, then relaxed again. “Was that a joke, you stupid brother?” 

A loud sigh announced the arrival of their other brother. “Of course I find you two up here giggling like school girls.”

“Fuck you, Mycie,” Sherlock said, miserably refusing to sit up. 

“Can I send him away?”

“Oh, why bother?” Sherlock asked, trying to rub the tears off his face. “Work will call and he’ll disappear on his own.”

“I was calling Dr. Smith, arsehole. He’s not able to come out, but he called something in for you, and suggested a shot of whiskey if we had one.”

Sherlock exhaled loudly, and shuddered. “I hate whiskey.”

“That’s why you gotta take it. It’s therapeutic,” Benji said, trying to tease his brother.

“I’ll do it if you do it, William,” Mycroft said, in a daring tone.

“Oh, please,” Benjamin said, sitting up, and glancing at Mycroft. “I’d pay to see that.”

“I got a spare one hundred pounds I can throw in,” Sherlock said, muffledly. He sat up and hugged his pillow to him. 

Mycroft joined his brothers on Sherlock’s bed, and gave out shot glasses. He grabbed the whiskey and unscrewed the lid. “Five hundred pounds, Benji.” 

“Deal,” Benji smirked, not believing for a minute that Mycroft would do it. “Plus Locky’s hundred pounds and my own five hundred pounds. That brings your total up to eleven hundred pounds.”

“He won’t do it!” Sherlock said, trying to stay focused on his brothers, not the bloodied ring in his hand. Sherlock slipped the ring onto his pointer finger and rubbed the side of it. 

“Would you pour the shot, Locky?” Mycroft asked, and then held the bottle out to Sherlock. He took it and opened it inhaling a deep draft of the whiskey. He tipped it over Mycroft’s glass and filled it appropriately. 

Benji watched his big brother delicately sniff it. “Is it a good vintage?” Benji asked, mockingly. 

“I’m not sure this is entirely appropriate,” Mycroft said, lowering the shot from his mouth. “I mean, I’m not sure Victor would appreciate this.”

“Victor is family. When Grandmere-”

“May she rest in peace,” Mycroft interrupted Benji’s sentence.

“When that cold, hard bitch finally died, what did we do? We hid in the corner and took shots in her memory.” Sherlock wiped his eyes. “And then when Uncle Billy died?”

“That was a great day. He always had incredible bourbon,” Mycroft agreed. 

“So, do it, or I’ll tell Mummy-” Benji stopped speaking, as Mycroft threw his shot back. Mycroft’s face went through several emotions before he forced himself to swallow. Mycroft shivered, and held the glass out to Sherlock to inspect. 

“Empty.” 

“Damn, I can’t believe you did it!”

“I had to, I was being-”

“Boys!” Mummy called up. “Don’t let Mycroft bully you into doing shots.”

Benji and Sherlock shared a look with each other. Mycroft cleared his voice, and responded, “I would never encourage the boys in drinking.”

Mummy and Daddy exchanged a look, but didn’t comment further.

“Ok, Benji. Double or nothing,” Mycroft said, holding his shot glass out for Sherlock to refill. Sherlock dumped a bit in his own shot glass, which Mycroft was holding. Then he added a bit to Benji’s own. He filled Mycroft’s much higher than the other two. Sherlock screwed the lid back on the bottle. 

Mycroft handed the shot glass to Sherlock. The three brothers clinked their glasses together, and threw the shot back together. 

Benji swallowed quickly, and glanced at the door frame. “I keep thinking, ‘any minute Vic will show up’ and just now I heard a creak. I thought it was Vic.”

“This isn’t real,” Sherlock said, handing his glass back to his big brother. He unscrewed the bottle and poured shots for the three of them again. “And yet, I’ve got his engagement ring with just a splatter of blood-” Sherlock touched the ring absentmindedly. “I gave it to him. You were there. I gave it to him.”

“I was too busy smoking a cigarette,” Mycroft admitted. “Speaking of which! I’ll be right back.” Mycroft swallowed his shot quickly, and then scrambled off the bed. He left the room. 

Benji realized what Mycroft was doing, and ran over to open the window. Before he crawled back on the bed, he stoked the fire. Mycroft was just returning when the pair climbed up on the bed. He gave each of them a cigarette, and then lit them. 

Sherlock took a deep draught, and held it in his lungs for a moment. He exhaled the smoke out of his nose, which admittedly burned a bit and swallowed his shot down. “Is this even real life?” 

“It doesn’t feel like real life,” Mycroft agreed, inhaling deeply from his own cigarette. 

“Do you even have a life?” Benji asked, waving his cigarette around. “You work, then go to the Diogenes club. Do you have sex, ever?” 

“Sex is worthless pursuit.”

“The fuck it is!” Sherlock said, loudly. He exhaled smoke, and waved it away from his face. “Stop sleeping with women when you really want men.” 

“Oh god, are you still in the closet, Mycie? Come out! No one cares anymore,” Benji said, with a bit of a slur to his voice. 

“I’m not everyone. I care about my image.”

“We know,” Sherlock said, waving his cigarette around. “But gay men can and are powerful!”

“Oh, Locky, that’s just hetrosexual propaganda!” 

“Do you hear yourself right now?” Benji asked, throwing another shot back. “Like the breeders ever cared about us.”

“They care, because they think we’re going to rape them in the army and oh hell, I don’t know. Victor knew about this kind of thing.”

“Did you delete it from your mind?” Mycroft asked, trying to joke.

“He probably did,” Benji said, in a jolly voice. Benji placed his shot glass on Sherlock’s knee and snagged the bottle away from him. He poured another round for his brothers. 

“I might have deleted it,” Sherlock admitted, then sighed loudly. “Is this real? Is Victor really gone?”

“He can’t be,” Benji sighed, screwing the whiskey lid back on. “He’s-”

Sherlock picked up his glass, and swallowed it down. He looked at his first finger and rolled it around his finger. “I have his ring.” 

“You had it yesterday.”

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. “He washed his hands and didn’t put it back on.”

“There’s blood on it.” 

“I’m assuming that wasn’t there before,” Mycroft pointed out.

“Of course it was. Vic and I are vampires.” Mycroft rolled his eyes, and Benji pushed his hair out of his own face. Sherlock’s face fell at a sudden thought. “He’s going to be buried needing a haircut.” 

“Does he want to be buried?” Mycroft asked, practically. “What if he wants to be cremated?”

“Does he have family?” Benji asked.

“He’s an orphan. His family died when he was younger,” Sherlock said with a shrug. “We didn’t talk about final preparations. We’re young. Death is not something we were thinking about.” 

Mycroft shook his head, and stubbed his cigarette out. “You never worried about death.” 

“Why should I? I’m invincible!” Sherlock stated, stubbing out his own cigarette. 

“You’re both going to die before me,” Benji laughed, adding his cigarette to the ashtray. 

“Not if you don’t start working out,” Sherlock stated. “I have been going to the gym with-” Sherlock shook his head, and tugged loose strands of hair behind his ears. “We took a boxing class together at the gym, and we loved it. It was so much fun.”

“You go to the gym?” Mycroft scoffed. 

“Some of us actually eat.. I mean Benji eats, but I graze,” Sherlock admitted. 

“Brother mine, you devoured your meals lately.”

The sudden silence crashed around the three brothers, and Mycroft lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sherlock.”

Sherlock had tears welling up in his eyes, and shook his head. Benji leaned against Sherlock’s shoulder, wrapping his arm around his brother’s waist. 

“I’m going to go to bed, brothers mine,” Mycroft said, softly. He stood up off the bed, and dusted himself off. Some tobacco ash fell to the ground. “I’ll leave my cigarettes.” Mycroft looked at his two brothers for just a moment, before he swallowed hard, and turned away. 

Benji nudged Sherlock in the ribs, and rolled his eyes. “Can I sleep in here with you?”

Sherlock snorted dismissively. “We both know I’m not going to sleep.” 

“Then, I’ll stay here and just tell you stories until the sun comes up.” 

Sherlock groaned, but laid his head on Benji’s head. A very quiet sigh and then, “Thank you, Benji.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. More is coming! I swear it! 
> 
> If you want to join us in our Sherlock Discord "The Baker Street Irregulars" , here's the link :
> 
> https://discord.gg/KSkyAXY


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